Eternity bores me, I never wanted it.

The trouble was, I had been inadequate all along, I simply hadn't thought about it.

I was supposed to be having the time of my life.

Secretly, in studies and attics and schoolrooms all over America, people must be writing.

I am inhabited by a cry. Nightly it flaps out Looking, with its hooks, for something to love.

So many people are shut up tight inside themselves like boxes, yet they would open up, unfolding quite wonderfully, if only you were interested in them.

I couldn’t see the point of getting up. I had nothing to look forward to.